


In The Place That You Wish (Was a Ghost)

by thepretender501



Category: Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Loki is a bad guy, M/M, Steve doesn't want to leave the past behind, Thor is Clever, Tony focuses on someone other than himself, random naked guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 17:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepretender501/pseuds/thepretender501
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they left Asgard, with Odin’s thanks, Steve was all smiles and team spirit. The next day he doesn’t get out of bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Place That You Wish (Was a Ghost)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Elainemalfoy for the beta. I added things after her beta so all my mistakes are my own. Inspired by: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Mythology (loosely), and my own madness. Just a warning there is talk about death and a brief mention of suicide (none of it graphic) so be prepared for that. If any of those things trigger you then this isn't the fic for you. Also, a random naked guy.

Loki is a crazy, maniacal, manipulative asshole, it’s a fact. On his, what, _third_ attempt to destroy the planet he took over Asgard and split the Avengers up between the nine realms. Being the biggest dick in the universe, he sent Steve to Niflheim, the land of the dead and once Tony found out he regretted that he didn’t take the very real opportunity to tear Loki apart. His only consolation was Loki’s punishment; a vicious snake dripping venom into his eyes every day for eternity. It seemed far worse than anything Tony could have managed and besides Steve seemed okay when the team was reunited. He didn’t talk about it but he led the fight with as much energy and enthusiasm as always. When they left Asgard, with Odin’s thanks, Steve was all smiles and team spirit. 

So they saved the world, the nine realms of Yggdrasil (whatever that means) and earned the respect of Odin and all of Asgard. And it was okay. They escaped unscathed and everything was okay. 

The next day Steve doesn’t get out of bed. Not once. He’s wrapped in the comforter when Tony wakes up for breakfast and he doesn’t leave the bedroom all day. 

Tony can’t pretend it’s not disconcerting; Steve doesn’t tire easily. He doesn’t take days off despite Tony’s urging because he doesn’t know what to do with himself if he’s not in battle or training for battle. Tony’s been helping him with that and it’s hard because Steve still doesn’t feel like he belongs here. Except for when he’s with the Avengers and he’s saving somebody or the world. It seems like that’s the only way Steve can justify his existence in the present. So Tony lets him rest. 

The next day is the same, Steve sleeps all day. Tony goes to a board meeting and signs some forms for Pepper. He works on one of his suits for an hour and puzzles out a theorem with Bruce. Long before bedtime he pulls the comforter over himself and sidles up next to Steve. He curls his fingers into Steve’s hair and listens to the slow heavy pace of his breathing. 

Steve stirs very slightly and doesn’t move to face Tony but Tony knows he’s awake. 

“Hi,” he says. They’ve only been dating for a month and Tony’s not exactly used to this yet. 

“Hi,” Steve responds after some time. 

“Want to tell me what happened on Niflheim?” Tony asks. It’s better to be blunt and straightforward about these things.

“I don’t.” Steve says. And no one ever said Steve isn’t just as straightforward and stubborn as Tony is.

Tony’s not going to push. “Are you hungry? You must be. ”

Steve sort of shrugs. “Not really.” This, coming from someone who can easily manage four or five hot dogs in one sitting. 

Tony rests his head against Steve’s shoulder. 

The following day, while Steve is in bed, Tony researches Norse mythology, Niflheim and the land of the dead. He asks Thor to clarify some of the hazy parts. 

“One who has not passed through Valhalla does not have the privilege of seeing the land of the dead for what it truly is,” Thor explains. “Instead, projections of those loved ones who have departed the living world are sent to entice the living to concede to death and remain on Niflheim. It is a part of Hel’s game. She is repulsive and terrifying and yet, mysterious and alluring.”

“Hel? That’s Loki’s daughter, isn’t it?” Tony clenches his fists. 

“Yes, Man of Iron. But Hel is not in league with her father. Not even Loki can contain the realm of the dead.” 

If that’s meant to be reassuring Tony doesn’t feel it. “Well, what kinds of things would Steve have seen there?” 

Thor meets Tony’s eyes and Tony mentally shakes himself as it dawns on him that Thor is at least a thousand years old. “It is impossible to know for sure what the Good Captain might have seen. He is a man who has known an entire generation of the dead. He has been close to death himself. My guess is that Hel might have sent an army of his dead after him. They would have tried to get him to stay using the method that he is most likely to respond to.”

Tony tries to imagine some of the things Steve might have seen: _Men he commanded, long dead._ Had Steve wanted to go with them? Did he feel at home among them? How had he managed to escape? 

A fresh wave of fury washes over Tony, his fists are balled so tightly that his fingernails dig into his palms and suddenly Loki’s punishment doesn’t seem like enough. 

Tony brings food to the bedroom that night. Steve barely lifts his head when Tony nudges him awake. 

“Hey,” Steve whispers. 

“Hi, I brought things. Clint made steak and potatoes. I know how much you like that so I talked him into it. Will you eat a little?” 

Steve doesn’t respond right away and Tony gets anxious because caring this much about somebody else is new. He’s doing the same things for Steve that Pepper always did for him. He gets it now, why she cared about his eating habits and sleeping habits among other things.

“At least have some water,” Tony says because, if nothing else, Steve needs to drink something. He cards his fingers into Steve’s hair because Steve is still quiet and maybe he’s passed out asleep again. 

Then Steve rolls over and Tony backs off a bit until Steve is facing him. When he gets a proper look at Steve, Tony realizes he hasn’t been sleeping at all. Smudges of blue and purple stain Steve’s eye sockets, and they’re thick, puffy, like he’s been crying and how had Tony managed to miss that? They share a bed for fuck’s sake. 

Steve sits up slowly and takes the glass Tony offers him. “How are you?” Steve asks. His eyes are haunted but concerned. He’s worried. He’s worried about Tony. 

Something thick and painful rises in the back of Tony’s throat and he swallows it down quickly. He doesn’t care about himself. He doesn’t even care about the rest of the world right now. He’s saved them enough times. He has only one job and that’s to save Steve from that stupid haunted look. 

“I’m not good, actually,” Tony says and Steve’s tired eyes widen. “I’m worried about you,” Tony continues. There are feelings there, feelings Tony refuses to quantify because they’re impossible but they’re there all the same. 

Steve smiles, a little thing, and stares at the glass of water in his hands. “I’m fine. I’ll be ready to go for our next fight, no problem. Wait and see. In the meantime, you relax.” He takes a sip from the glass and then continues to stare at it.

And how on earth did this become about Tony? Tony brushes a thumb over Steve’s bottom lip and earns another small smile. “Talk to me, Cap, _please_. I’m supposed to be your partner. Don’t you trust me?”

Steve’s face pinches up and he sort of draws into himself. After a moment he exhales. “I—I do trust you.” Steve deflates after that. He looks every bit as drained as his eyes convey. “I don’t know how to tell you—I-I don’t want you to worry.”

“Yeah, I get that. Don’t think about me. Just—I’ll feel better when I know you’re feeling better. If I can help, I don’t know. I just—I want to know. I want to be a part of this with you.” Tony isn’t exactly sure what he’s trying to say. He rambles a lot; it’s not one of his better qualities. He’s good with words and quips but when feelings are involved that’s a little more difficult. “Here have some food,” Tony adds because it’s getting cold. 

Steve shakes his head a little but takes the plate when it’s offered. He chews slowly. His eyes, _Jesus Christ_ , Tony can’t look at him without getting that painful feeling in his throat so he just gazes at his fingernails. They’re dirty, chipped, bruised and calloused and yeah, he can blame that all on the last battle with Loki when even his suit had been worn down to nothing.

Steve doesn’t finish his food. He just gives up after a few bites and sets the plate on the nightstand. “I saw Bucky,” he says. He’s staring straight ahead but he's not looking at Tony. His eyes seem unfocused like maybe he’s still in the land of the dead. That line of thinking hurts and Tony finds he can't swallow so he inhales sharply instead. 

“His skin was pale and— and he kept asking me why?” Steve continues and Tony has to lean in to hear him because he’s talking so softly he might as well be talking to himself. “I was sick, when I saw him. I just dropped to my knees and vomited. It was so selfish. I put him there and I couldn’t even stand to look at him.” Steve takes an unsteady breath, clasps his hands together, and rests them in his lap. It’s only then that Tony notices his hands are shaking. “He said I belonged there with him. Peggy was there too. She asked me if I wanted to dance.”

Tony looks out the window. Steve’s eyes are wet and Tony doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to say anything because what can he possibly say? It’s okay? Because it’s not. You’ll be fine? Well, he can’t promise that. He could mention his mother, his father, Yinsen, or Obie—the pain of loss, the sting of betrayal but that’s not enough. It’s never going to be enough to say that he gets what Steve went through, what he’s going through. He’ll never understand it and the last thing he wants is to come off disingenuous. 

“I’m sorry. I…” The words die in Tony’s throat. He takes a deep breath and tries again. This time he looks at Steve even though Steve’s eyes are wet. “Thor told me they were trying to get you to stay.” 

Steve stares at him for a moment and then he slumps onto the mattress, lying down again. 

Tony bites his tongue because, _fuck,_ he said the wrong thing, not a big surprise; he overthought it and missed the point entirely. He gets up and moves the plate back onto the tray. He leaves the water on the nightstand next to Steve and he almost, _almost_ misses it when Steve mumbles, “I wanted to.”

Tony doesn’t sleep that night either. Something in Steve’s response troubles him to the point where it hurts to think about it. He stays in his lab until four in the morning and spends the rest of the morning listening to Steve breathe. Steve gets up to shower sometime after six and Tony waits for him to climb back into bed before he ends up dozing off. The following morning, Tony can tell the rest of the team is beginning to worry. They’ve given Tony the space to deal with it so far but Tony’s not really helping anything, is he? The whole situation has everyone edgy. 

Tony seeks out Thor again. “You said before that the dead would try to entice Steve to stay. What would have happened if they succeeded? What would have happened to Steve?”

“Well.” Thor exhales and crosses his arms. He holds his fist to his chin. “I have not been to the realm of Niflheim in at least a century so forgive me if my memory does not serve me proper. But as I recall, if the Captain had agreed to depart the living world, his mortal soul would then belong to Hel.” 

Tony shifts on the balls of his feet. He’s anxious and terrified of the answer to his next question. “Is it possible that his soul has departed and his body is just—?” Tony’s voice breaks. He can’t look at Thor. He can’t even breathe. 

“Hm, if I understand your question, and I believe that I do, I would say, no. It is not possible for Hel to take the soul without securing the body it belongs to. There are other factors involved. You must understand to touch the dead is to be drained of life but, the only way Hel can take you is if you concede to death.”

Tony lets out a breath because okay, Steve isn’t a soulless zombie, he’s still in there. “To touch the dead is to be drained of life. What? What does that mean?”

“When you confront the dead, as Hel projects them to you, they seem the same but different as they did when you knew them in life. I recall, on Niflheim, I hugged one of my fallen warrior brethren. The effect was a profound desire to be with that loved one again. Infatuation with the dead drains the life from the living and, in extreme cases; the living may end their lives in order to be with their dead loved ones again.”

Tony feels anxious again. That concept isn’t new but he feels like he needs to get back to Steve. _Now._ “Uh—how would—is it possible to stop it? I mean how would I get Steve to—I don’t know—wake up?”

“Indeed, my friend. Well, life is the natural opposite of death. In this line of thinking, your answer is quite obvious. Our Captain must find value again, in the things that made him choose life over death during his time on Niflheim. It is natural to make a decision and regret not choosing the alternative. I would say that is the state our Captain is in.”

“Right, thanks,” Tony says. He’s not sure exactly what Thor means or how to put that into practice but he does know he’s got to get back to Steve. 

He gets to the bedroom in record time. Steve is okay. He’s still breathing. Tony’s checked him all over. He climbs into the bed next to him and wraps his arms around him from behind. He nuzzles against the back of Steve’s neck and Steve moves some. “Tony, is everything okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Is all Tony says when he really wants to say: the opposite of death is life. Wake up, Steve. Live. “The team needs you. We all do.” 

Steve sits up then and Tony falls next to him, heart thumping. 

“Is there trouble?” And for the first time Steve’s awake and alert and present. He’s here in this moment. Tony is going to say yes, there’s trouble. He’s going to make something up just to get Steve out of the bed and get him active. Then he closes his mouth because there has to be more to it. Steve can’t live for the battle and saving lives alone. It’s not fair to him. He’s a hero but he’s more than that. The idea of Steve choosing to live for the mere fact that he owes some great debt to the world he left behind makes Tony feel sick. 

“I—no emergency but we’re going to take an art class. Er—as a team building exercise and therefore you’re needed because—well, team.” Tony is making things up. He knows Steve likes art or did in a past life. He knows because Howard knew every damn thing there was to know about the guy.

Steve looks drained again. “No, I’ll sit this one out.” 

“Actually you don’t have a choice, soldier. Shower and meet me in the family room in uh—half an hour.” 

 

Steve wears a small smile. “Yes, sir.”

 

"Good." And he's not going to think about Steve calling him sir, because Tony’s got to put his foot down. He doesn’t want Steve to lie in bed forever. For one thing the sheets need to be changed. 

 

Tony throws something together last minute. He manages to get all of the Avengers to participate, except Thor because he’s gone to run an errand with Jane. Everyone else is wearing their _‘oh Tony’_ expressions. That might be because Tony hires a nude model to be the subject of their portraits. 

Speaking of, Tony should introduce him. “This is Brent everybody, he’ll be our subject. Brent, this is everybody.” Everyone including Brent exchange uncomfortable— naked man in the room— greetings then Brent approaches the windowsill at the far end of the family room and settles into a pose. He’s buff like Thor but without Thor’s height so he comes off stocky. He’s got a few tattoos and long black hair that falls to his back. He looks like he could have been an inmate or a dominatrix in a former life, but whatever, last minute nude guy with decent bone structure. Tony counts this as a win.

“You couldn’t find anyone to teach us how to hold a paintbrush. No, you went straight for awkward studio art class with hairy chested Fabio. Nice,” Clint mutters dryly. Natasha snorts. 

Tony shrugs. “What better way to learn?”

“Just remind me to thank you for this later.”

They each have a place in the reorganized family room with a canvas and an expensive set of paints that Tony—well, Jarvis located last minute. Tony picked them up though. 

When Steve walks in, no one mentions the tired hollowness of his eyes or the sallow sickly color of his skin and Tony is secretly grateful. Steve hesitates and looks around the room, he frowns when his eyes land on Tony. “What—”

“Hey sleepyhead. We’re practicing on the human form today.” Tony bites his lip and worries because this is too much. He can feel it. He just wanted to see Steve smile but he’s so terrible with this kind of thing. It’s always too far in one direction or another. 

Steve flushes. “Tony, this is crazy.”

“Yeah? Why?” Tony brushes a stray hair behind Steve’s ear. Tony fidgets sometimes; it’s an absurd habit. 

“Well, for one thing, there’s a naked guy in your living room and, for another thing, you can’t just pick up a paintbrush and capture the human form. It takes— well, it takes skill and patience to master that,” Steve says.

“Hum,” Tony says, like he’s deeply pondering that. 

“Some of us can’t even pick up a paint brush, so there’s that,” Clint says from the peanut gallery because he often feels the need to repeat himself, especially when someone else agrees with him.

“Well, you can show me.” Tony walks Steve to a chair in the center of the room. 

_“Tony,_ ” Steve groans. 

“Nope, I’m going to paint with you.” Tony pulls a chair next to Steve’s.

“Honestly, I’m better with sketching. I don’t have much experience with paint,” Steve says. 

“Well, good. We’re even then. And I’ll say this now: whoever draws the best penis wins,” Tony says and then he nudges Steve and whispers, “We’re going to win.”

“Can I add a rule?” Bruce asks, but he doesn’t wait for a response before he finishes talking. “I think, due to the dignity of our subject and Tony and Clint’s propensity towards saying inappropriate things, this should be a silent activity.”

“Ah, good point, Green Giant.” Tony says. “Jarvis, play something classical.”

“Very good, sir.”

It starts out with a good deal of snickering on Tony, Clint and Natasha’s part. Clint draws an elaborate stick figure with long blond hair and a penis that looks like a third leg which Natasha points out and the three of them giggle until Bruce’s heart monitor beeps dangerously fast. Natasha has a moderate talent for art. She manages to draw some sort of cartoon version of Brent but Clint adds thought-bubbles and so that ends up being degraded down to dirty jokes and more giggling. Brent is professional, though, in spite of everything. Tony really should pay him extra. 

Bruce gives up halfway through and gets a glass of water. It’s for the best; he wasn’t getting anywhere. Eventually, as Steve’s painting starts to take shape, everybody sort of stops what they’re doing and gravitates towards him. He’s lost in his own world but it’s an artistic one, not a dead one. 

Tony reminds himself again that Steve is always going to be modest, even about stuff he can do exceptionally well, because yeah, right, he doesn’t have that much experience with paint. Tony rolls his eyes as a beautifully crafted portrait comes to life in front of him. Thor walks in just as the face is nearly complete. 

“My Shield brothers, what matter is this that you all may have fellowship without me?” he booms. 

“We’re painting,” Natasha says.

“Very good!” Thor is looking at Steve’s portrait and then he spots Brent posing by the window. “Impressive, Steve Rogers! I shall have to remove my garments and ask you to paint me that I may give a portrait such as this to my lovely Jane Foster.” 

The entire room dissolves into laughter, then. Even Steve is smiling. Thor looks confused at first because he was entirely serious but even he grins when Tony points out he’s next in line for a nude portrait by Steve. Tony ends up sending Brent home with a ridiculous amount of money after that.

Natasha frames her portrait and gifts it to Thor. Clint asks how much they’ll pay for his art. They all agree he’d have to pay them to take it and he gets distracted and wanders over to the phone to order a pizza. They spend the rest of the night in the family room on the floor, talking about art in the least refined manner possible. Steve tells them he spent a few semesters at art school before the war. Tony can hardly see the dead in his eyes when he talks about it so he keeps asking questions long after Thor turns on _Sister Act Two_ and the rest of the team huddles close to the television to watch it. 

That night, as Tony starts to doze off, he feels Steve’s mouth on his. Tony blinks and inhales through his nose. “It’s not a dream,” he mutters dumbly when Steve breaks the kiss. 

“No,” Steve says softly. “Tony, can I—if I ask you something silly will you—”

“Anything you want, at all. Just—just ask.” 

Steve flops down and hugs his pillow close. “I can’t sleep. I don’t know. I-I don’t want to have sex. I just want you to—to touch and kiss me all over.” 

Tony breathes and reminds himself again that this is real and it’s incredible and Tony can do this. He can do this and not make it about sex, if that’s what Steve wants. If that’s what he needs. 

“Uh, yeah. Okay. Yeah,” Tony says, his voice is breaking and he’s not sure he wants to know why. 

He starts with Steve’s face: his hair, his forehead, his eyelashes. Tony kisses each cheek tracing his fingers behind Steve’s earlobes. Steve’s got this look in his eyes, like he wants to say something. Tony thinks he knows what it is and he can’t hear it right now so he moves to Steve’s mouth next. He kisses him chastely, lets Steve flick his tongue out and lick his way into Tony’s mouth and allows Steve to deepen the kiss. Steve is steady and slow and constant. It’s all Tony can do not to push the pace until Steve breaks the kiss. They breathe against each other for a while and Tony slides his hands beneath Steve’s t-shirt. He feels the muscles there, always coiled and tense. He feels Steve’s chest rise and fall and his heartbeat. 

Tony feels lightheaded. He slides his fingers down Steve’s neck, brushes them slowly over that junction between neck and shoulders and that makes Steve shiver. He presses his thumbs against Steve’s collar bone. Then he kisses each place, wet sucking kisses. 

He traces Steve’s pecs, lingering to lick circles around each nipple, suck them into his mouth. Steve exhales and arches his back a little. It’s probably too much. Licking wasn’t on the table, neither was sucking. Tony decides he’ll stop but only if Steve tells him to. 

He kisses his way down Steve’s stomach and Steve works his fingers into Tony’s hair. There are things Tony wants to say. It’s so quiet and he’s sweating and there’s not enough air and he’s turned on. He feels like whispering words about how important this is, how important Steve is, how much more Steve means to the world than just being its savior. Other things might come out though so he keeps his mouth busy. He kisses his way down Steve’s happy trail, and then looks up because, yeah, Steve is hard too. _Very hard._

“I can stop, if you want. Or I can—whatever—it’s up to you,” Tony says. His voice is raspy and broken. 

If the room were brighter, Tony knows Steve’s skin would look flushed and Tony would kiss everywhere the blush touched. “Yeah, you can keep going if you want.” Steve says, breathless. 

Tony nods and slides Steve’s sweatpants down. He secretly loves that Steve never wears underpants to bed. He touches the hard length as gently as possible while he kisses at Steve’s pelvic bone. Steve moans a little and Tony swallows. He pushes Steve’s legs up so he can kneel between them. He kisses his inner thighs and then his knees. 

“Okay,” Steve whispers as Tony runs his fingertips over the pads of Steve’s feet and elicits a full body shudder. 

“Yeah? That’s okay?” Tony asks. 

“Yeah.” 

Tony sits up and takes one of Steve’s hands and presses it against his face, he holds it there and nuzzles into it. 

“Thank you.” Steve smiles up at him. “I can—I can touch you now, if you want.” 

Tony shakes his head. He barely managed to finish Steve without making it about getting himself and Steve off. If Steve returns the favor, Tony doesn’t think he’ll have the strength to stop himself from begging. “Tomorrow. I’ll—we can tomorrow, okay?”

Steve nods. 

“Can you sleep?” Tony asks. “Because if touching me will help or whatever, I’m game. I’m just letting you know I might come.”

Steve laughs a little bit. “It’s okay. Even if you want me to touch you till you come, I can.”

Tony shakes his head. This is okay. He’s okay with this. “If you can sleep without it, I’m fine.”

“I don’t know if I’ll sleep but I can try. I had nightmares before but—no, Tony, don’t look at me like that. I’m fine.”

Tony kisses Steve’s palm. “You can wake me in the middle of the night if you need to. I only really need about four hours before I start dreaming about circuits anyway. Just don’t—you’re not alone okay? Don’t leave me out. And did you dance with Peggy on Niflheim?” He bites his tongue after he says it because, wow. If ever there’s a moment, Tony can find a way to ruin it. “Hey, sorry, don’t answer that. I—god, I’m sorry.”

Steve doesn’t answer because he isn’t there anymore. His eyes are distant the way they’ve been the past couple of nights. Tony’s chest tightens and he touches the arc reactor to make sure it’s still in place. 

“I did.” Steve says finally. “I danced with her; it was almost perfect.”

Tony shrinks. “It’s—it’s okay. I know you might regret your decision to stay in the present with the living but—”

“Tony.”

“—we love you and not just because you’re a hero. I know you feel like you owe—“

“Tony, I—“

“—us something, like you’re obligated to save us but you’re so much more—“

“Tony!” Steve presses his palm firmly over Tony’s mouth so that Tony ends up kind of mumbling into his hand. “Hm?” Tony raises his eyebrows.

“I don’t regret it. It was difficult to let go of the past and then to do it for a second time, even more difficult. I almost gave in. It’s still hard and I think it always will be but I had a choice and I chose the present.” 

Tony nods and mumbles, “Because of duty.”

“Because of you,” Steve says. “I thought of you and as bad as I wanted to I _knew_ I couldn’t—I knew I had to get back to where you were.” 

“Oh,” Tony says. Because _oh_. That wasn’t something Tony expected. Not because he doesn’t feel the same way; he does. He just thought he was feeling too much too soon. He’s still not ready to say it so he shows Steve. He leans down and kisses Steve, slow and lazy and patient. Steve breaks the kiss and touches Tony’s lips after and he looks like he’s at home. Tony wants to keep him there forever. He collapses on the bed next to Steve and he feels too wound up to sleep. A few minutes later Steve starts to snore. Tony smiles to himself and he feels less worried about tomorrow. He doesn’t even have time to be surprised when sleep sneaks up on him.


End file.
